


It's Good to be The King

by artful_fanfic



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: D/s, F/M, Light BDSM, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, erotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artful_fanfic/pseuds/artful_fanfic
Summary: The Plank King enjoys some time with a "friend."





	It's Good to be The King

**Author's Note:**

> So what if we only knew The Plank King for a couple of episodes? They were a memorable couple of episodes and he was a memorable guy. Can you believe this is my first foray into writing for the "Critical Role" fandom?
> 
> This is also my first time writing some honest-to-goodness intentional smut. Please be gentle.
> 
> Spoilers for episode 43.

It had been a day that would be remembered for far longer than the blackened name of the traitor would be. Wyatt Marinos, The Plank King of Dark Tow, was grateful to have that would-be knife in his back dealt with, less so for the chaos that had ensued. That group of fuck-ups had done him a decent turn. They’d better stay away if they knew what was good for them.

His heavy footfalls carried him to his lavish room. Content that his work was done for the day as the traitor’s body now adorned a pike as a message to others who might consider prematurely ending his rule, he secured the door behind him. He let out a slow breath and gingerly tugged his hair off. Placing the wig on the skull of its previous owner, he took a moment to fluff the curls with a smirk. “Thought someone’d come take me down as I did you, eh? Not a chance,” the words came out as a near-growl.

He was smoothing some oils into his scalp when he heard the light knock on his door. Three raps from familiar knuckles. A sharp bark of laughter tumbled from his lips. “‘Bout time you showed up. Door’s unlocked. Lock it behind you.”

She did as she was told, good girl that she was. Mara could always be counted on to be obedient. He liked that about her. He also liked the way her gaze shot daggers at him even as she did his bidding.

She’d probably try to kill him one day, but it would be worth it.

He watched her approach in his looking glass, following her every movement. It looked like there’d be no attack today. She was a smart one, his Mara. “You know the rules, lass. Coming in here like this after a day like today.”

“You’re an ass,” Mara hissed as she carelessly tossed her coat over a nearby chair. “This is Dark Tow. There are no rules here but the one.”

They always had this discussion. “Aye, but that’s outside of this room. You come here for a reason. No need to deny that my rules appeal to you. Not here.” His gaze remained on her form in the looking glass.

Their token argument over, she muttered an oath in a language he didn’t care about knowing. As long as she did as she was told, he didn’t care about much at all. Caring led to problems and problems were always such a trial to solve.

She toed her boots off while she removed her vest and threw it on her coat, a feat of coordination that never failed to impress. “Good lass,” he rumbled, watching as her clothing was removed a piece at a time. He appreciated not having to unwrap his own gifts.

Once she was gloriously nude, she tilted her head in the direction of his chair. “Please.” The single word was both a plea and a request. They both knew who gave orders here.

He finally turned to face her. His gaze traveled over her supple form from head to toe. It was decorated with a few tattoos and scars. Each had a story, he supposed, not that he’d ask since she wasn’t there to talk. Still, he liked the looks of her if nothing else. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said after an uncomfortably long moment.

He casually draped himself over the large chair someone had brought for him as tribute. Legs splayed, he gave her an expectant look. She sank to her knees in front of him and he watched a faint blush spread from her cheeks down to the tops of her breasts and up to the tips of her pointed ears. He liked how quick her skin was to color.

She tugged his boots off first, followed by his socks. Then, she leaned up to start work on the laces of his pants, deft fingers making quick work. Her lips parted and the breath caught in her throat as she wrapped a hand around her quarry - not that her fingers could make it all the way around the erection that had been straining against his pants. Dark eyes lifted to his face, darker still from arousal. The unspoken question hung in the air.

“Aye, lass. Get to work.” He buried a massive hand in her hair and pushed her head down, fingers gripping hard enough to make her gasp. She trembled, but didn’t resist. Not this time. She had to know he was in no mood for that today.

It was almost comical at times, watching her as she did her best to wrap both hands and her mouth around him. It had to be uncomfortable, but she never seemed to complain. His fingers tightened in her hair, earning him a moan from her as she greedily took him as deep into her mouth as she could. Her head bobbed and, for a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes and focus on the sensation.

Gods, she was talented. It had been on the tip of his tongue to ask if she’d been a courtesan in a past life, but it wasn’t a question to ask when his cock was deep in her mouth. She’d be liable to bite. 

He let her worship him, his little supplicant on her knees. Her eyes were closed as she focused completely on him. Her hands, rough from her work, stroked over his length as she forced herself to take as much as she could. He encouraged her ambition, his hand guiding her until she choked. Then, he’d let her up again.

She’d finish him like this if he let her. They’d done that enough. That wasn’t what he was craving. He tugged her head up by the grip his had on her hair. “On your feet,” he ordered.

Her expression was almost dazed, lips swollen from her efforts. She released her hold on him and pressed her palms flat on his thighs to help her to her feet. He had to grin as she wobbled a bit once she got to her feet. His gaze lowered to the juncture of her thighs. Gods, she was dripping.  
His grin widened as he adjusted himself in the chair. He lifted hips hips to shove his pants down to his knees. Her eyes followed his movements, mostly focusing on the way his cock bobbed with his motions. She was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. “Have a seat. Facing me.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She settled onto his lap, straddling him and positioning herself just so. He gave her a nod and she took his cock in hand. Then, she slowly began to lower herself onto him.

His hands went to her hips, engulfing them as he shoved her all the way down until he was fully seated inside of her. Her eyes widened and she grabbed his shoulders with both hands, her lips parted in a soundless gasp. “Too slow,” he explained as he allowed her a moment to adjust. Once he was content, he used his grip on her hips to set the pace he wanted from her.

Mara followed directions and was soon riding him without his assistance, a ragged moan tumbling from her lips. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck,” she gasped. Her nails dug into his skin and he savored the sting.

He kept a hand on her hips as one slid up her side, over her breasts during which he took the opportunity to give each nipple a savage pinch. She squirmed and writhed, but kept the pace. “Good lass,” he murmured. Blunt fingers wrapped around her throat.

Hours ago, those fingers had ended a traitor’s life. She knew that. He’d seen her in the crowd. Her eyes snapped open, holding his gaze as he squeezed ever so slightly. “Who am I?” His question was soft in the cavernous room that echoed with the slapping of flesh on flesh.

“M-my King,” she managed around a moan, her nails digging deeper. She was drawing blood now. Gods, what a woman.

“Who am I?” His fingers tightened.

Her head fell back as she gasped. “My. . .king.”

The pace faltered a moment, but she soon found the rhythm again. She moved faster atop him now, harder and desperate. He felt the squeeze of her around his cock. She was close now.

“One more time.”

“My king!” The words were as much a scream as she could manage while she thrashed atop him. He released her throat and gripped her hips, slamming her down on him through her release until he could find his own.

A short while later, her form slumped atop his and his shirt stuck to his sweat-slick skin, he gave her shoulder a none-too-gentle bite. “Leave when you can walk.”

“Fuck you,” she weakly punched his shoulder.

“That’s what I’m here for, lass.”

**Author's Note:**

> So. That happened. You're welcome?


End file.
